


Love can save us all

by constantlybored



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Teenlock, Work In Progress, literally making this up as i go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantlybored/pseuds/constantlybored
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock jerked awake at the sound of his cell door being brutally shoved open. He reluctantly opened his eyes as three burly men stepped through the threshold, dragging the struggling form of a young boy with them.  Another one, he thought.</p><p>Sherlock, along with a handful of other teens have been kidnapped and held prisoners by their brutal captors. But when a new boy is thrown into the same cell as Sherlock, an unlikely friendship begins. The blossoming of something more than friendship is inevitable, and our boys show us just what kind of lengths you'll go to, to protect the ones you love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently a work in progress, and I will try and update it at least once a week. I would love love love to hear any comments and thoughts you guys have about this. Enjoy :)

Sherlock jerked awake at the sound of his cell door being brutally shoved open. He reluctantly opened his eyes as three burly men stepped through the threshold, dragging the struggling form of a young boy with them. _Another one_ , he thought.

‘Get off me!’ the boy yelled, as the men continued to pull him into the cell.

Despite being out numbered and out sized, Sherlock noted that regardless of the hopelessness of his actions, the boy seemed to be putting up a good fight. He managed to get in a few good punches here and there before the largest man, who Sherlock recognised as Sebastian Moran, brought his fist down on the boys face with a loud crack that made Sherlock cringe.

Sherlock heard some of the other prisoners whimper in sympathy as the boy’s limp form was mercilessly dragged across the hard floor. Realising they were heading in his direction, Sherlock quickly closed his eyes and prayed they would leave him alone.

The boy, whose face was turned away from Sherlock was hauled to the wall and chained beside him. The men gave him a few harsh kicks to the ribs before snickering and exiting the room, bolting the door shut as they went.

Sherlock waited until the men’s footsteps could no longer be heard before he allowed himself to let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed. He’d been hoping that his currently unshared cell would not be used for anymore new prisoners, as he enjoyed the isolation and somewhat quietness of being separated from the others. Their hopeless cries and whimpers only angered him, and their talks of escape made him want to laugh. How could they escape?

He cast his eyes over the stationary form of the boy beside him. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but the boy seemed to have sandy blonde hair that was ruffled at the back, a presumed effect of the fight with his captors. He was shorter than Sherlock, but more filled out.

Sherlock strangely found himself desperately wanting to see the boys face. Slowly, and careful not to stir him, he reached out and cautiously placed his hand on the boys shoulder, gently pulling so that he turned over. Sherlock couldn’t help but admire the boy now facing him.

Although he was shorter, the boy seemed to be around Sherlock’s age. He had a pleasant face, nothing special but handsome none the less. His face looked friendly and soft, unlike the sharp angles of Sherlock’s. His eyes were closed and Sherlock could just about make out the faint beginnings of a bruise travelling around the corner of his eye.

Sherlock’s eyes travelled down and he could just about make out the dents in his shirt, revealing his toned torso. Sherlock wondered how many men it had taken to get him here, and why he had been taken. It was clear by the small grazes on his knuckles that he’d put up quite a fight.

Sherlock tentatively reached out and ghosted his pale fingers across the cuts when the boy suddenly awoke. His dazed and confused eyes met Sherlock’s, and Sherlock couldn’t help the involuntary gasp that escaped his lips.

His eyes were wide and large and….blue. They were the bluest eyes Sherlock had ever seen and he felt himself drowning in the depths of them. They were soulful and soft and…frightened.

‘Where am I?’ the boy whispered, his hands struggling half heartedly against his chains, still hazy from his unconsciousness.

‘W-what’s going on?’ he stuttered, his panic increasing by the second and his thrashing becoming more frantic.

Sherlock found himself hastily reaching for the boys hands and holding them down.

‘Shhh it’s okay, you need to stop moving or you’ll hurt your wrists,’ he hushed as he rubbed soothing circles over the boys knuckles.

The boy seemed too tired to argue and slowly began to relax under Sherlock’s gentle touch.

‘What’s your name?’ Sherlock whispered, reluctantly letting go of the boy’s hands and slowly laying down beside him.

‘John,’ the boy said sleepily, trying to gallantly fight the unconsciousness that was creeping up on him.

‘Go to sleep John.....everything’s going to be fine.’

Sherlock watched as John’s eyes fluttered closed and mentally slapped himself. Everything was not going to be fine, why had he said that? He suddenly found himself feeling sorry for John. What? Sherlock was in the exact same position, why should John deserve his sympathy? He didn't even know him. Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh, confused at these unexpected and sudden eruption of unfamiliar feelings. 

After a failed attempt of pushing the boy from his mind, Sherlock let his eyes rest on John’s face, and found that he couldn’t will himself to close them. Instead, he allowed the steady breaths of the boy beside him to slowly lull him back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock get to know each other and we are introduced to a few of their fellow prisoners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was kindly informed that when I first posted this chapter some of the dialogue was missing, but hopefully it is all fixed now. :)

John awoke to a throbbing pain in his forehead, wincing slightly at the sudden onslaught of light. At first he thought he was at home, and briefly worried about being late for school. But then the events of the previous night returned to his head and he felt a cold panic begin to settle in the pit of his stomach.

He looked around, taking in his new surroundings when he noticed a boy sitting beside him, staring vacantly towards the door. The boy’s skin was ghostly pale, which contrasted greatly to the mass of unruly ink black curls that rested chaotically on his head. He suddenly remembered the boy from the night before. He remembered waking up in a panic; not knowing where he was and feeling gentle hands clasp his own. He remembered the boy had muttered something, but what, John couldn’t recall.

‘You’re awake,’ a deep baritone voice mumbled, puling John from his thoughts.

‘Uhh….yeah.’

John suddenly realised he hadn’t a clue where he was.

‘If you’re wondering where we are, I’m afraid to say that I have no idea, except that we’re in a cell somewhere along the coast of England, so spare me the pedestrian questions,’ the boy droned as if reading John’s mind.

‘…..Alright…well, I’m John Watson,’ John said awkwardly, extending his hand which proved rather difficult in his chains.

The boy either didn’t notice John’s hand or simply chose to ignore it.

‘Right…’ John said, letting his hand fall. Clearly the somewhat intimacy of the previous night had been forgotten. Had John been dreaming?

‘Don’t worry, he’s always like that,’ a girl suddenly piped from the cell next to John’s. She had mousy brown hair and large brown eyes.

‘You would be too if you’d been here as long as I have,’ the boy snapped, turning his head to bore his piercing grey eyes into the girl’s brown, making her visibly recoil.

‘We’ve all been here a long time Sherlock, but we can’t just give up hope,’ she sighed.

 _Sherlock_ , John thought, so that was his name. It did seem strangely fitting, an odd name for an odd boy.

Sherlock huffed a bitter laugh in response, before continuing to stare blankly at the bars in front of him.

‘I’m Molly Hooper,’ she said smiling, extending a hand through the bars to shake John’s.

‘And this is Greg and Mary,’ she added, pointing to the other teens occupying her cell.

‘John Watson,’ John said, reaching to shake both of their hands.

Greg looked older than John, with dark blonde hair and dark circles under his eyes, his look completed with a rather impressive black eye. They all looked so tired and worn; John couldn’t help but wonder how long they’d been there.

‘I would say nice to meet you, but meeting under these circumstances can hardly be described as nice,’ Greg said, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

‘Why are we here exactly?’ John asked.

‘Your guess is as good as ours mate,’ Greg replied.

‘No one really knows why we’re here…..and I don’t know if I want to know. He calls us his….pets’ Mary explained, her pretty face grimacing at the final word.

‘Who does?’

‘Jim Moriarty, he’s the guy who runs this place, says he likes…..collecting us.’

‘Collecting us!?’ John exclaimed, eyes widening in horror.

‘Yeah, like we’re some kind of fucking action figures,’ Greg spat angrily.

‘We rarely see him though, he usually sends his crones in to deal with us….they're the guys that brought you in,’ Mary explained resentfully.

John winced, remembering the painful memory.

‘Moran, the biggest one, the one who hit you…he’s Moriarty's right hand man…likes to do the punishing, seems to get off on it.’

‘Punishing!?’

‘Yeah…normally just the odd hit here and there, Moriarty says he wants to keep our faces pretty…but sometimes it can get out of hand,’ Greg said.

‘How so?’

‘Well sometimes…he gets carried away…there was a boy, Anderson, only 16 years old. Moran beat him so bad I doubt even his mother could recognise him,’ Mary explained solemnly.

‘And then what happened?’

‘They took him away,’ Molly whispered gravely.

‘What!?’

‘That’s what they do… after a while…they take them away.’

‘Where!?’ John croaked, his voice raising by a whole octave.

‘We don’t know…but once they’re taken…they don’t come back.’

‘You don’t think there-‘

‘Dead? Oh most definitely,' Sherlock interrupted bluntly, making all 4 teens flinch.

‘Sherlock-’

‘Oh don’t Sherlock me Molly. Are you actually that naïve to think otherwise?’

‘No, but you don’t have to-‘

‘Don’t have to what? Say what we’re all thinking? They’re dead Molly and we all know it. Everyone’s just too damn scared to admit it. Too scared to accept the fact that anyone of us could be next!’ Sherlock snapped viciously, the harshness of his words causing a few teens in the cells further down to whimper in fear.

Molly looked down, trying to blink away the tears that were rising in her eyes. If Sherlock noticed, he didn’t seem to care.

They were quiet for a few moments before Greg decided to break the silence.

‘So John...how did they get you?’ he said, in a vain attempt to relieve the tension that had settled thickly around them.

‘Uhhh well I can’t remember much. I was walking home from school when a guy grabbed me from behind, tried to get me in his car. I managed to break free before more guys showed up. I’m happy to say I managed to give those bastards a few good punches before I was knocked out cold. Then I woke up just as they were bringing me in here,’ John said, absentmindedly rubbing the ache in his ribs.

‘How long have you guys been here?’ He added.

‘It’s hard to say, I reckon I’ve been here for around three months. Greg was brought in a couple of weeks later and Mary came a couple of weeks ago,’ Molly explained.

‘Sherlock’s been here the longest,’ she said sympathetically. ‘Almost seven months.’

‘Seven months!?’ John gasped, head turning in Sherlock’s direction. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

‘Yes seven months, were you not listening?’ he snapped.

‘Yes I just…that’s a long time, no wonder you’re so cranky’

Sherlock looked at him incredulously.

‘Tell me John. Do you think they’ve noticed your absence in the care home yet?’ he spat cruelly.

‘What? How did you-’

‘Obvious, you’re clearly in a lot of pain as a result of your fight last night, yet you’ve failed to complain or show any kind of any outward acknowledgement of your injuries since you’ve woken up-

‘Oh here we go,’ Greg sighed, rubbing his temple.

'-This indicates you often get into fights, and are used to waking up with a throbbing head and aching ribs. Your also skilled knowledge of combat, as demonstrated last night tells me that you often get into fights with older people, but not at school as you care too much about your education to jeopardise your studies over worthless disputes. Your also easy ability to interact with others implies that you get on well with people at school, therefore would have no reason for any kind of arguments, meaning your fights must be with siblings. However, as sibling fights are normally only verbal, and not as rough as yours clearly are, this tells me your fights are not with family members but with people whom you live in close proximity with everyday, and do not care if you hurt. This therefore, reinforces the idea that you live in a care home,’ Sherlock finished, taking in a breath.

‘How do you know I don’t just live with parents who like to adopt a lot of kids?’ John asked.

‘No, that’s not a possibility, you failed to mention a mother, father or sibling when you woke, which is the first thing a person of your age would do if they woke up in a strange place. This suggests you lack a parental figure in your life to depend upon, and are used to being independent and by yourself. Parents would also have somewhat control over their children, and would not let your fights get as violent as they have done,’ Sherlock explained.

It was silent for a few moments and Sherlock mentally prepared himself for the ambush of assault that he expected would follow.

John let out a breath.

‘That was….amazing.’

‘What?’

‘That was amazing, were you not listening?’ John said with a smirk, mimicking Sherlock’s earlier response.

‘Are you mocking me?’

‘No! That was incredible…..quite extraordinary.’

‘Really?’ Sherlock’s expression was one of such surprise that John couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.

‘Yes really!’

‘That’s not what people usually say.’

‘What do people usually say?’

‘Piss off,’ Sherlock said bluntly.

The two boys looked at each other for a while before bursting into uncontrollable giggles. Their laughs proved infectious and soon Molly, Mary and Greg were all snickering. Molly let out a rather impressive snort which only made them laugh harder. They must have all looked insane.

‘I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that,’ Molly said, whipping the tears from her eyes.

‘I haven’t laughed like that ever,’ Sherlock explained, which caused a new set of chuckles to erupt from their mouths.

‘We can’t laugh here! We’re being held prisoners by a group of crazy madmen!’ John exclaimed through giggles. ‘People are looking at us like we’re insane!’

‘Are we not?’ Sherlock asked still laughing.

‘Well maybe you are.’ John replied, his face slipping into a smile that made Sherlock’s heart do several back flips.

However, their laughs died in their throats as the door to their room was shoved open.

‘Rise and shine my pretties!’ Moran yelled, chuckling as he stepped through the threshold.

‘I’ve missed you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the second instalment of this fic! I did find it quite tricky to write Sherlock's deductions, so I hope I've done okay. As always any comments would be much loved :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so sorry for such the late update! I've been away for the past 3 weeks and as usual crappy life has gotten in the way. Anyway I hope you enjoy the next chapter and again, I'm very sorry for such the long wait! :)

‘Keep your head down and your mouth shut,’ Sherlock whispered to John hastily.

John did as he was told.

‘Thought you’d like some breakfast,’ Moran chanted, chucking sacks of food through the bars of each cell. ‘After all….we need you to keep your strength up,’ he said with a smirk.

A boy, who looked no older than twelve let out a sob from the corner of his cell, unable to hold in his cries. The other teens around him tried desperately to quieten his sobs, but his whimpers continued. 

Moran’s head snapped in the direction of the sound.

‘Now Michael, what have we said about crying?’ Seb said, making his way over to the boy’s shaking form.

Michael remained quiet, glancing down at his feet and sniffing quietly.

‘I said-’ Moran yelled, grabbing hold of the boys wrists and yanking him forwards ‘-what have we said about crying!?’ 

The boy, whose face was now forcefully pressed up against the bars, let out a strangled cry. Frozen by fright he seemed unable to speak, struggling to let out coherent words.

‘ANSWER ME BOY!’ Moran barked, twisting the boy’s wrists violently.

‘Leave him alone!’ John suddenly yelled, instantly regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. 

Moran twisted his head in John’s direction.

‘What did you say!?’ Moran asked incredulously, making his way towards John.

John lifted his gaze until he was staring directly into Moran’s eyes, determined to swallow down his fear. ‘I said…leave him alone.’ 

Moran huffed a laugh. ‘You’re going to regret that boy,’ he said, unlocking John and Sherlock’s cell door.

‘Please he doesn’t know what he’s saying!’ Greg shouted desperately.

But Moran ignored him, clutching John by the collar of his shirt and pinning him against the wall. ‘Such a pretty face,’ he whispered, gently caressing John’s cheek. ‘Shame I’ll have to spoil it.’

‘Please don’t! He didn’t mean it!’ Molly pleaded frantically. 

Moran raised his fist intending to bring it down on Johns face before harsh words stopped him in his tracks.

‘You seem rather cranky today Sebastian. Trouble in paradise?’ Sherlock said quickly, his face seemingly impassive but his eyes revealing a hidden desperation. 

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me. You and Jim not getting along?’

‘Why you little-’ Moran whispered, letting go of his grip on John.

‘Oh don’t tell me he’s found a new puppy to follow him arou-’

Moran launched at Sherlock, punching him squarely in the face and causing his gangly frame to fall to the floor.

‘YOU THINK YOU’RE CLEVER BOY!?’ Moran yelled, kicking Sherlock brutally in the ribs and causing him to gasp in pain. 

‘YOU THINK YOU’RE FUNNY!?’ 

‘I’LL MAKE YOU WISH LIKE YOU’D NEVER BEEN BORN!’ Moran screamed, continuing his onslaught of kicks before a particularly violent one caused Sherlock to cry out in pain.

Sherlock’s cry seemed to pull John back to his momentarily horror stricken senses, and he leapt at Moran, tugging on his chains and trying desperately to pull him away from Sherlock’s cowering form.

‘Don’t touch him!’ John yelled, kicking incessantly at Moran’s legs, resulting in a hard blow to the cheek that caused him to fall backwards.

Moran backed away and looked at the pair of them, wild and indignant eyes penetrating their own before breaking into a laugh. 

Greg and Molly stared at each other, horrified, while John could only stare at the insane man standing before him. His body was shaking from hysterical laughter as he slowly wiped his watering eyes with bloodied hands. He looked completely unhinged. 

‘As much as I would love to kill you now, I can’t.’ Moran sighed dramatically. ‘Oh trust me, if I had it my way you’d be nothing but a pile of broken bones right now….but lucky for you Jim wants you alive and functioning…. properly.’ 

‘But don’t worry; I’ll get my turn sooner or later. And boy am I going to enjoy watching you squirm.’ Moran said, pointing a finger in John and Sherlock’s direction.

John was still staring at Moran, his eyes filled with a sinister and excited gleam that made John shudder.

‘Well… I best be off, can’t keep Jim waiting.’ 

‘See you soon!’ Moran yelled over his shoulder, winking as he stepped out of the room.

As soon as the sound of the door closing was heard, all teens seemed to let out a simultaneous breath. John crawled quickly over to Sherlock’s crumpled form, seizing him gently by the shoulders and pulling him into a sitting position.

‘Are you alright!?’ John asked, scanning Sherlock’s body for injuries.

‘Yes, yes I’m fine,’ Sherlock said, rubbing a hand over his throbbing jaw.

‘You idiot, why did you do that!?’

‘What!?’ Sherlock asked, a confused expression forming on his bruised face. 

‘Why did you interfere? I didn’t need your help!’

‘What?....I’m the idiot? You’re the one who couldn’t keep his bloody mouth shut!’

‘I couldn’t help it! I couldn’t just sit back and watch him-’

‘Oh please that’s so typical, you think you can just swoop in here and save everyone, you think you’re some sort of saviour, trying to be brave but doing more harm than good! Your petty heroics will get you nowhere!’

‘What? No that’s not what I think I-’

‘You don’t know what it’s like here, you haven’t even been here a day and you’ve already signed your death warrant.’ Sherlock snapped, moving closer into John’s personal space.

‘Well you seemed more than willing to sign yours too. Why do you even care what happens to me anyway?’ John shouted, mirroring Sherlock’s actions, so that their faces were now inches away from each other.

‘Because-’ Sherlock began before stopping himself, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. ‘-I don’t,’ he finished, moving backwards and looking at the floor.

It was silent for a moment if not for the sound of ragged and uneven breathing. It was Molly who broke the silence.

‘Look…we’ve had a rough day…maybe we should just forget about this.’

‘Molly’s right, we’re all stuck here together whether we like it or not, arguing is just going to make it more difficult,’ Greg said.

John nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists in an attempt to offload his anger. 

‘…You’re bleeding,’ he said, turning to look at Sherlock’s face.

‘I..oh yes…I am,’ Sherlock said, reaching to rub a hand over his lip and looking surprisingly at the red that now covered it.

‘Here…let me,’ John offered, ripping the bottom of his shirt and bringing it to Sherlock’s lip.

‘You really don’t have to-’

‘-No, I want to…It’s the least I could do.’

Sherlock sat quietly whilst John gently mopped up the blood on his face, his heart rate increasing slightly as John’s thumb lingered on his cheek, inspecting the bruise there.

‘I should really check your ribs,’ John said, indicating to Sherlock’s torso. 

I…um yes, yes that’s fine...okay,’ Sherlock stammered, mentally kicking himself for his sudden inability to form a proper sentence.

John carefully and slowly lifted up Sherlock’s shirt, revealing 2 rather large and impressive red marks. ‘This may hurt a bit.’

Sherlock was about to say something along the lines of ‘don’t be obvious,’ before all train of thought was lost as he felt warm and slightly calloused hands against his bare skin. Sherlock’s breath hitched as John’s hands explored his stomach, massaging and probing the tender flesh. It felt both painful and extraordinary at the same time.

‘I don’t think you’ve broken anything, just bruised,’ John said, pulling his hands away and fixing Sherlock’s shirt.

‘Al-Alright,’ Sherlock said, feeling almost empty at the sudden loss of contact.

‘How did you know how to do that?’ Mary asked, starring at John in wonder.

‘I errrr, I read a lot of medical books.’

‘Impressive,’ Mary said smiling.

John laughed, looking at the floor, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks.

‘You want to be a doctor,’ Sherlock said quickly, desperate to turn John’s attention away from Mary.

‘Yes…. and I suppose you worked that out by the length of my right foot or something.’ 

Sherlock smirked. ‘Not quite, but no one would read medical journals in their spare time if they weren’t serious about becoming one.’

‘I guess not,’ John said smiling

‘You would make a good one….doctor I mean,’ Sherlock said, his face flushing a little. 

‘Is that a complement I hear?’ John said smirking, to which Sherlock rolled his eyes.

‘If that’s the way you’re going to respond I shan’t bother next time.’

‘No! No I meant thank you,’ John said laughing. ‘I have an interview at Bart’s next week…though I doubt I’ll be able to afford to go. I was thinking of maybe joining the army, that way they’d pay for my education and at least I’d be getting somewhere you know? But, I guess that doesn’t matter now...’

Sherlock didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to comfort John over his lost future.

‘So what about you? What do you want to do?’ John suddenly said, snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts.

‘What? Oh I don’t know,’ Sherlock said, a little embarrassed at his hope of becoming something that didn’t exist, and confused as to why John was interested. 

‘Oh come on, you must have something planned for that clever little head of yours.’

Sherlock smiled at John’s words, and oddly found himself wanting to tell John about his plans. Something he found a little unusual, but if he was being perfectly honest no one had particularly given him the chance before. ‘Well…I was thinking of becoming a consulting detective.’

‘A what?’

‘A consulting detective.’

‘Again, what?’

Sherlock sighed. ‘Someone who the police come to when they’re out of their depth…which is always.’

John frowned. ‘I’ve never heard of that before.’

‘Well you wouldn’t have, I invented the job.’

‘Ha! I should have known.’

‘….I know it sounds silly but-’

‘No! I think it’s perfect.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, you’d probably be able to tell who the killer was just by looking at the size of their left toe, it’d be great!’ John joked, a broad smile forming on his handsome face.

‘Well I’d need an assistant of course, a medical man that could help me with the post-mortems, someone who I could tell my deductions to and-’

‘Someone to stop you from pissing too many people off,’ John finished, smirking.

‘Yes…that too.’

‘Well I’d happily assist you on your adventures Sherlock Holmes.’

The two boys laughed for a moment, absorbed in the fantasy of their future and even though they’d only been joking, Sherlock couldn’t help but wish John was being serious, and that he would actually want to do those things with him. But of course he wouldn’t. Who would want to associate themselves with Sherlock Holmes? The only reason John was talking to him was because they were stuck in this damn place together. All too soon the reality of their situation hit him, and the warmth that John’s words had filled him with was replaced with a familiar coldness. 

‘What does it matter now anyway…there’s no point joking about what can never be,’ Sherlock said bitterly.

John’s laugh faded and he looked at Sherlock, his blue eyes so full of sympathy that Sherlock couldn’t help but feel guilty that he’d taken the joy out of those eyes, and replaced it with something sad.

Sherlock waited for the insult, or the reprimand for being too negative, but instead he felt a gentle and comforting hand on his shoulder. 

In that moment the door was once again opened and Moran, accompanied by a slightly smaller man stepped into the room.

‘Oh no’ Sherlock whispered, watching as the 2 men wordlessly entered a cell and unlocked the chains of the small boy from earlier on – Micheal.

‘No please! Please don’t take me please, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ The boy screamed desperately.

Moran and the other man ignored the boy’s cries, dragging his kicking and screaming form out of his cell. The other girls and boys sharing Micheal’s cell shrank into themselves, covering their faces or ears so as not to see or hear the horrific display happening before them. No one made a sound in fear of being taken themselves.

Sherlock closed his eyes and felt John’s hands tighten on his shoulder. Micheal’s screams could still be heard as he was dragged mercilessly down the corridor.

Sherlock turned to look at John. Everyone had encountered this before, already seen it. But John hadn’t. John’s eyes met Sherlock’s and Sherlock was surprised to find that it was not fear that inhabited those blue orbs, but anger.

‘We should have helped him,’ John croaked, dropping his head in shame.

‘There was nothing we could have done,’ Sherlock said quietly. ‘We’d have only made it worse, we couldn’t have saved him.’ 

‘What do you think they’re doing to him?’ John whispered.

‘I don’t know,’ Sherlock replied, and for once, it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes and once again, any opinions you have on this chapter would be lovingly cherished! I promise the next chapter will be posted much sooner than this one was!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much really happens in this chapter, just John and Sherlock having an angsty heart to heart, accompanied by some fluffiness.

The whole room had been silent for hours, the light had dimed and Sherlock guessed it must now be night. But one could never be sure here, the days and nights seemed to merge together. Sherlock stared at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to banish the questions from his head. Why were they here? What were they doing to Michael? When would he be next? He hated not knowing things, and for once Sherlock Holmes was frightened. John shifted next to him, clearly also unable to get to sleep.

‘The adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, maybe you could write a book about them,’ Sherlock suddenly whispered, desperate for anything to distract him from his thoughts.

‘What?’ John said, turning over so that he and Sherlock were now face to face.

‘Our adventures. Maybe you should write a book about them.’

‘Ha! I’m sure that’d be a best seller, look out JK Rowling.’

‘JK who?’

‘JK Rowling?...Harry Potter!? Sherlock don’t tell me you haven’t heard of Harry Potter!’

‘Harry what?.... No I must have deleted it.’

‘Deleted it!? Right well that settles it then, if we ever get out of this hell hole you’re coming round to mine…well you know what I mean, and we’re going to have one great big giant Harry Potter marathon.’

Sherlock smiled. ‘I’d like that.’ 

‘Although perhaps we should do it at your house, we wouldn’t get any peace and quiet round mine…’

Sherlock paused. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea either.’

John gave Sherlock a quizzical look, prompting him to continue.

‘I didn’t exactly leave my family on good terms.’

‘What do you mean?’

Sherlock took a breath, unsure of why he wanted to tell John this, but continued none the less. ‘It was stupid really. I was stupid. I was sick of my parents, sick of being second best, sick of Mycroft being better at everything, sick of being a disappointment. I just wanted to escape everything.’

John was silent, waiting for Sherlock to continue.

‘Things weren’t exactly wonderful at school either, you can guess that I wasn’t exactly Mr popular. The constant torments and name calling…it was all just too much. I started skipping classes and then I just stopped going altogether. I’d never had any friends. I guess that’s why that when I met Victor, I was so desperate for him to like me that I was willing to do anything. I was so overwhelmed by the fact that someone was finally paying me attention, I didn’t realise what a shitty person he was,’ Sherlock let out a small laugh.

‘He showed me a way to escape reality, escape the torments and the thoughts constantly going round in my head-’ Sherlock whispered, scrunching up his eyes.

‘I’d only taken it a couple of times- cannabis I mean. I wasn't addicted. But my parents found out. They were horrified…you should have seen their faces. After having someone as golden and error free as Mycroft, you can imagine their shock. Their youngest son, a school skipping druggie. We had an argument and I said things I shouldn’t have…that I didn’t mean. My dad told me to get out and so I did.’ 

Sherlock let out a breath. ‘I went to find Victor…I had this stupid and childish fantasy in my head that he’d be happy to see me, that we would live together or something,’ Sherlock laughed bitterly. ‘I did find him…and we lived in what can only be described as a garage for about a week. It was horrible…he was horrible. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to go home but I was too damn proud to pick up the phone. And that’s where Moriarty found me. I don’t know what happened to Victor and I don’t care, but I’ve been stuck here ever since,’ Sherlock finished, furiously blinking back the tears that were arising in his eyes.

John had remained silent throughout the whole of Sherlock’s confession, listening intently to every word.

Sherlock felt fear bubble inside him, he’d told John everything. If John had shown any interest in him before, those feelings were surely gone now. He’d think Sherlock pathetic now that he knew the truth, just like everyone else. Why did he have to ruin everything? 

Thankfully John finally spoke, snapping Sherlock out of his thought bubble of self hatred. 

‘Family’s hey, who needs em,’ John sighed, giving Sherlock a weak smile.

Sherlock remained silent, unsure of why John hadn’t turned away, and why he was trying to make him feel better.

‘I’m sure your dad didn’t mean it…it was just a fight, you were all in the heat of the moment.’

Sherlock sighed. ‘Even if they didn’t it’s too late now.’

‘No it isn’t. It’s never too late. You’ll always be their son and they’ll always love you, you must know that. Family is family, after all.’

Sherlock was silent.

‘I bet they’re looking for you.’ 

Sherlock huffed a laugh and shook his head. ‘No they won’t be, they probably think I’m in some kind of drug den lying in my own puke.’

John winced at the image.

‘In some ways I deserve this. I deserve to be here. I brought this upon myself, if I hadn’t of-’

‘No! Sherlock no!’ John said quickly, clasping Sherlock’s shoulders gently, and shaking him a little. ‘Don’t you dare say that!’

‘It’s true! I’m a worthless freak that doesn’t deserve his own family, doesn’t deserve to be happy,’ Sherlock croaked, tears now spilling freely down his pale face. The emotions he’d suppressed for so long becoming too much to bear.

‘No Sherlock stop! Stop!’ John said, cupping Sherlock’s chin and lifting it up to face him.

‘You’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met, yes…maybe a tad annoying but still extraordinary, and whatever crap you’ve done is in the past and in no way does it justify you being here. You must believe that.’ 

‘But you don’t even know me,’ Sherlock whispered, wiping the tears from his eyes.

John sighed and stroked a hand through Sherlock’s curls. ‘I know that you have a brilliant mind and a good heart…as much as you’d like people to think otherwise. And I promise you that when we get out of this I won’t leave you alone. We’ll sort it all out.’

‘And what if we don’t ever get out?’ Sherlock whispered, fear evident in his grey eyes. Never before had John seen him so vulnerable, and a surge of protectiveness washed over him.

‘We will. I promise.’

Sherlock was silent whilst John continued to stroke his hair, feeling drowsy under his comforting touch. 

‘I was terrified of the dark when I was little. Harry used to tell me there were monsters lurking in the shadows, just waiting to snap up little blue eyed boys like myself,’ John said laughing quietly. ‘She was a rubbish big sister.’

‘Anyway, when mum was around and I was frightened, she used to sit with me in bed, stroke my hair and sing to me.’

‘How cute,’ Sherlock murmured teasingly, smiling a little at the image.

‘Yeah yeah whatever, but it worked. It helped me forget. She had the sweetest voice you know, like tiny little droplets of honey scattered into melodic constellations. And she always smelled nice. Harry used to always describe her as some kind of monster, but she couldn’t have been all bad. Not if my memories are true.’

John was quiet for a moment.

‘Like a rose under the April snow,  
I was always certain love would grow,  
Love ageless and evergreen,  
Seldom seen by two.’

John laughed softly. ‘I can’t remember the rest, not that you’d want to hear me sing the whole thing. My singing skills aren’t the greatest.’

Sherlock hummed quietly.

"......Goodnight Sherlock.”

“Night John.”

Sherlock replayed John’s words in his mind as he fell asleep, faintly registering a pair of lips on his forehead before the darkness enveloped him.

**Author's Note:**

> In the next chapter we will hear more about Sherlock and Johns past, and just how the heck they've ended up in this situation. We will also be introduced to some of Sherlock and John's fellow prisoners.


End file.
